


ghosts from the past

by newrromantics



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:06:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3943009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newrromantics/pseuds/newrromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia sees Allison again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ghosts from the past

Lydia is twenty-six years old when she first spots her.

 

While on the way to a meeting, she freezes in her tracks amongst a busy sidewalk, her eyes narrowing in on a girl with dark brown tresses hurrying from one street to another, her hair tied messily back and a big art book tucked underneath her shoulder. For a minute it's like Lydia has forgotten how to breathe, people push and shove at her on the sidewalk, toss her strange looks and frowns as she remains still, mute.

 

It takes her twenty minutes before she moves again and by that time her meeting has already started. Deciding it would be pointless to still try and get there, she turns back around and heads home.

 

*

Two weeks later and Lydia spots her again: dashing out of a cafe and sprinting down the street to catch a bus.

 

Her mind is racing with possibilities as she watches the woman hop on the bus, the familiar movement of her legs, the easy smile that slips onto her face that still haunts Lydia to this day. It can't be _her_. Because Lydia was there when she died, the life draining out of her body as Lydia watched on, useless, unable to help and she'd _known_ , she'd felt it; she still feels it to this day, the heaviness of the guilt she carries around. Because she was there for her funeral as her body was lowered into the ground and Lydia leaned on her mother for support, wrapping their hands together tightly as she watched the girl she loved go six feet under the ground and not know how she really felt.

 

Lydia is late to meet her friend that day.

 

*

Three days later and Lydia spots her strolling down the street, her hair in a plait and glasses over her face.

 

It takes all she has not to run towards her, shake her shoulders and demands answers. You're supposed to have seven different doppelgangers out in the world. Lydia gulps and wonders why she keeps seeing the ghost of a girl she's just been trying to forget; it hurts to remember.

 

*

When Lydia spots her again a week later she thinks she might be finally going insane.

 

This time the girl is sitting on a park bench, a sketchbook out on her lap, lines and lines that make up a forest. Lydia walks closer towards the girl, the closest she's been to her since she first saw her in the street, (since she first saw her in Beacon Hills and decided they'd be best friends with a wicked smirk, _only then she hadn't known that all she'd want a week later would have their legs entangled and their lips pressed together in a searing kiss that would never end._ )

 

Lydia wants to ask for her name, at the very least. Maybe just have a nice, friendly conversation but she turns around before she can get too close and runs in the opposite direction, far far away from the girl with the brown eyes.

 

*

She calls Scott when she spots her again four days later, curled up on a library chair and reading a book. One of Allison's _favourite_ books.

 

"Help." She shrieks into the phone, panicking as she paces around her apartment. Scott tells her to calm down, to breathe and Lydia forgets how.

 

*

She thinks about seeing a therapist when only a day later she spots her in the supermarket, legs encased in fading jeans and a worn out t-shirt as she scans through the different yogurts available.

 

It's _insane_ to see the same person so much. Much more insane when the person looks exactly like your dead best friend, (and possible love of your life). Lydia doesn't dwell on it as she throws an overnight bag into the trunk of her car and starts the six hour drive to Beacon Hills.

 

*

"I swear she looks exactly like her." Lydia says, leaning forward in her chair as eyes glance at her from all around the loft. _Feels like old times_ , she muses softly as she takes in everyone around her; just another pack meeting, just another possible danger. It sends a shiver down her spine to think about a girl that looks like Allison could be a danger.

 

"I believe you." Scott tells her firmly, the voice of a leader, soft eyes. _I believe you._ Allison's voice this time. _After everything we've been through, I believe you._

 

"It can't be her." It doesn't even sound like her voice as she says it, her voice shakes and cracks and the confident facade of Beacon Hills highs reigning Queen starts to crack a little. Kira clasps her hand tightly in her own, smiling up at her in a comforting way. Malia offers her half a smile from next to Kira's side, the best Lydia could hope for from her.

 

"But," Stiles leans forward, he looks excited. "What if it is her?" He says in a hushed whisper, like the words are dangerous.

 

"It _can't_ be her!" Lydia snaps, she stands up along with the words, glaring at Stiles for suggesting something like that. It's going to make it harder.

 

*

It has to be a test of some kind or her mind playing tricks on her.

 

Her face haunts her all the way back as she drives home from Beacon Hills. _Huh, weird_ , she notes as she drives. _Beacon Hills isn't home anymore._ Lydia doesn't want to admit that it hasn't been home since the day she died.

*

It's half past nine on a Thursday night when Lydia sees her again. In a video store, fingers tracing the cases of DVDs. Lydia has two assessments due in tomorrow at nine a.m sharp, she's fed up, tired and she's sick of seeing her best friends ghost everywhere she goes.

 

Stalking up towards the girl peering at movie titles, she places her hand on her shoulder and spins the taller girl around to face her. She's meet with familiar eyes, confused, mouth quirked. It takes all her strength not to have her voice crumble, her eyes water but she's Lydia Martin, former high school Queen of Beacon Hills high, Banshee - she puts her shoulders straight, musters up all her courage and confidence and cocks an eyebrow at the girl.

 

"What's your name?" She asks politely but there's bitterness underneath, an unsaid threat.

 

"Allison?" The girl replies back in a confused tone, she clutches her bag closer to her chest. Lydia lets her shoulders slump, her mouth go slack, her eyes go wide. Her confidence has gone and is replaced with the grief.

 

"No!" Lydia snaps, fury rising in her bones. "Stop it!"

 

But she's met with a blank stare from a stranger wearing her best friends skin.

 

"I'm sorry but do you - " Allison, _but not her Allison_ , trails off.

 

"You're not her." Lydia interrupts, tugging on her arm. " _You're not her._ " It comes out in a pathetic little whimper, soft and small and tiny. Fragile, breakable - all those things that Lydia's never wanted to be. Allison looks at her with a mixture of pity and confusion, tugging her upwards when Lydia's footing begins to slip and her eyes start watering uncontrollably. Any minute now the tears will fall and the waterworks will begin.

 

"Ssh, it's okay." Allison comforts, patting Lydia's back awkwardly.

 

"You look just like her." Lydia whispers, she's so confused. She's so terribly confused.

 

"Like who?" Allison asks, quirking her lips upwards in interest.

 

"Like Allison." This Allison probably thinks she's a crazy person. Lydia supposes she is, voices in her head, able to sense the dead. Banshee's aren't exactly the picture of a sane woman.

 

"I'm Allison?" She replies in confusion.

 

"I'm sorry." Lydia bursts out, tugging herself out of Allison's soft, gentle grasp before darting off to another corner and out of the store. Into the fresh air outside. Lydia doesn't stop running until she gets to her apartment, fumbling outside in the harsh Winter breeze for her keys, sobbing to herself as she stumbles inside her dark apartment. She strips and doesn't bother to put on any lights, climbs into bed like a little child and wishes for everything to go back to normal tomorrow.

 

*

It's just her luck when Lydia strolls into her business meeting and Allison - not her one, the other one that looks like her - is sitting on a cushion in the corner.

 

But Lydia is too tired to be surprised, just flops down in her chair, her eyes trained on the brunette as the meeting drones on. Allison doesn't look up at her once.

 

Once the meeting has wrapped, Lydia hangs around. Allison hasn't moved from her position on the cushion at all. Maybe if they work together they'll figure out what's going on.

 

"Hi." Lydia says softly, walking towards the girl.

 

Allison looks up, her eyes lighting up in worry and recognition as she spots Lydia.

 

"Are you - "

 

"Okay?" Lydia supplies the word for her as she sits down next to her. She shakes her head. "No. I'm not. For some reason you look just like my dead best friend and you have her name. But stranger things have happened." Lydia shrugs.

 

"Oh." It doesn't even seem to rattle Allison's bones at all. Gotta give a girl some credit.

 

"Tell me about yourself." Lydia says, her voice is soft as she looks at Allison. It's like seeing her best friend but not really seeing her. Everything that made Allison _Allison_ is still there, she can tell. It's like she's the same person just lacking the memories of the past Lydia has memories of. 

 

"Not much to tell." Allison chuckles in a reply, her pen stills against her paper. Lydia glances down at the page, frowning when she studies the image. Her face lights up in recognition as she points to the picture.

 

"I know this place!" Lydia beams happily.

 

"Really?" Allison looks hopeful as she asks the question. "I've been dreaming of it for months but I don't know where it is." Her mouth pulls down in a frown. "I don't know where any of the places are." She mumbles.

 

"What other places?" Lydia asks, prompting for more information. These could be clues to the mystery, to the big puzzle piece she's now destined to solve. Allison flicks through pages on her sketchbook, drawings of places Lydia remembers, of adventures with the gang. _Of Beacon Hills._ Lydia sits in silence as Allison flicks through the book, growing agitated as the time ticks on. Something isn't right, she's known that since the first time she saw Allison down the street but it's really not right, now.

 

"I know all these places." Lydia whispers. " _My house_ , you've drawn _my house_." Lydia squeaks, her hand flying out to stop her from turning to the next page. Her palm is faced flat over the paper, covering most of it but she can still make out details: the flowers in the garden, the trim on the roof, the iron gate outside of her house.

 

"How?" Allison whispers. It's the first time Lydia's heard this Allison scared, slightly afraid. Lydia looks at the girl that looks exactly like the girl she knows and shrugs her shoulders.

 

"I don't know. I wish I did but..." Lydia trails off, her eyes locking with the floor.

 

"Tell me about your friend." Allison says, it catches Lydia off guard. She looks up, alarmed, stares at the brunette for a few seconds. Allison blushes, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I mean, if you want."

 

Lydia doesn't think she does want to. Her heart hurts so much to just think about her, to look at the girl who looks like her, that has the same name as her -

 

"She was," Lydia starts but you can't describe Allison in a single word, or a string of words, or even a sentence. How do you begin to describe the most wonderful person you ever knew. "I don't know, she was just so _kind_." Lydia says but the word doesn't feel like enough. Allison was kind, she was brave, she made mistakes, she fought and fought and fought, she cried and she did things she shouldn't of done. She was strong and complicated and she was _Allison_.

 

"I don't know how to tell you about her." Lydia whispers, she can't look at the other Allison now; she _can't._ But her hand wraps around Lydia's, squeezing it gently in a sign of comfort.

 

*

The next time Lydia sees her it's not a mistake, an accidental stumble. It's a meeting. Down in a small coffee shop, hidden from busy streets. It takes Lydia three tries to be able to find it, she's ten minutes late but Allison is still there. She's sitting in a booth in the back, a coffee she hasn't touched and her sketchbooks in front of her. Her pencil is in one hand, poised above the paper that's already got a few lines on it. For a moment Lydia doesn't move, just hovers around watching her but Allison glances up, face breaking into a grin when she spots Lydia.

 

_A grin that looks so much like the grin Allison would use when she saw Lydia._

 

It takes Lydia a moment to find her balance, her hand gripping out for the plush red seat in front of her. The smallest of smiles gracing her lips before she flops down into the seat and resumes the straight lined frown on her mouth. It's too much to be doing this, to be talking to the ghost of a girl she knew and acting like this is all okay and nothing insanely weird is going on.

 

"I brought more of my drawings." Allison says quietly, her hands reaching out for the books Lydia had noticed when she first arrived. Lydia looks down at the books being slid over the table. She flicks through them casually, silent as she sees picture after picture of battles that they've fought, of Beacon Hills, there's her home and Scott's home and - Lydia freezes, her blood running cold as she looks down at the picture in front of her. The place where Allison died. A single Oni on the page, alone.

 

"What is this?" Lydia hisses, her mouth feeling dry as she holds the picture up to Allison.

 

"I don't know. Something I dreamed." Allison shrugs like it's no big deal but she's caught on that it means a lot to Lydia. "What is it?" Allison asks in a whisper, wondering if she even wants to know.

 

"Where she died. What killed her." Lydia replies back bitterly, her eyes studying the picture. It's probably time she called Scott and told him what she knew now. It's starting to get _freakishly_ weird.

 

"Oh my god." Allison says gently, her eyes wide with fear as her hand reaches out for Lydia's. "I'm _so_ sorry. I - "

 

"You were just drawing what you saw." Lydia says, smiling kindly at the girl in front of her. It's not this Allison's fault.

 

"I should go." Lydia says after a moments silence, sliding her hand out of Allison's grip. "It's too much to see you. I'm sorry."

 

And then she rushes out of the cafe and down the street and doesn't pause for a breath until she's back in her apartment, leaning against the door with her eyes closed and crumbling to the floor. _It's too much._

 

*

Cora drops by three weeks after the last encounter with Allison, bearing leather bound books on mythical forces.

 

"Derek told me." Cora says as a way of explanation as she plops down on the bed next to Lydia, books after books on this kinda stuff that'll help. Lydia nods, sniffles a little and picks up a book. It had taken a shot of whiskey and a lot of courage to pick up her phone and call Scott to tell him what she knew now. Cora wordlessly links their fingers together, squeezing her hand tightly as Lydia rests her head against her shoulder. Cora is familiar, too, _safe_. It takes all her effort to not kiss her because it'd be too easy to use her, to kiss her and love her and use her to not be hurting over Allison right now.

 

It had what she had done when Allison died. Bickered constantly once Cora had returned a year or so after, the pain still raw and fresh for Lydia. Bickered until they couldn't fight anymore and kissed after defeating another evil. It was the sort of love that grew into hate, the sort of hate that grew into love; lines blurred, never straight. Messy and complicated and bitter. But Cora was always there for her, she was always there for Cora. Just like now.

 

"We'll find out what's going on." Cora promises, mumbling the words until Lydia's hair as she cries softly. It's like being comforted by an old friend and maybe that's all Cora ever really was for Lydia, an old friend, a shoulder to cry on, somebody she fucks when things are tough. She knows that's what she was for Cora, still remembers the words she had said before she left. _I'm just fucking you as a friend, Lydia. Because my life is a wreck and you were there._ Cora was crying and crying and crying and Lydia couldn't touch her, her hands curled at fists at her side. _You're not who I want._ The words still sting sometimes, harsh and cold, but they were true for both of them. Cora wanted Erica and Erica was dead. Lydia wanted Allison and Allison was dead. Always settling for second best. For girls who didn't love them back, for girls who might of been able to if given the chance to find out.

 

*

Amnesia Resurrection.

 

"Sounds fun." Cora says dryly as she flips through the pages, her eyes scanning the words.

 

Lydia shoots her a small glare. "It sounds horrible." She whispers as she reads about it. Resurrected from the dead but made to forget everything she's known apart from a few key elements: like her name. Given new memories and a new life.

 

"Why is she dreaming of Beacon Hills then?" Cora asks once both of them have finished reading. It might not be what's happened to her but it's the most likely scenerio. It's Allison but she's not Allison at all. Lydia shrugs her shoulders, unsure of that factor herself.

 

"Maybe they can't wipe memories completely." Lydia offers as an explanation but it sounds weak to her own ears.

 

"Why Beacon Hills? She lived lots of places before there."

 

"Maybe it's because where she died."

  
*

Cora is with her the next time they see her. It's four days after they've discovered Amnesia Resurrection, ( _"Okay, it needs a better name."_ was the first thing Stiles had said once he had been told about it) and now they're both seeing her in the middle of the supermarket.

 

"It's really her." Cora whispers to Lydia, her eyes following her around. Lydia nods, mute. _It really is._

 

"Should we tell her?" Cora suggests.

 

"I know we should." Lydia says firmly, her hands tightening against the shopping basket in her hands. "But how? How do you tell someone something like this?"

 

It was so much easier before. Before Allison died. Before she turned up. Before, before, before - you can't go back to the before. You can only move forward, to the future but Lydia would like to be stuck in the past a little longer.

 

(and it was good before she found out about the supernatural, too. before she starting waking up in the middle of the night, howling, walking to the site of a dead body).

 

Lydia sighs, passing the shopping basket to Cora. If anyone should tell her, it needs to be her. She takes three steps towards the brunette before she pauses and spins back around to Cora. "We can't fix it. Shouldn't we found out how to fix it until we tell her." Any excuse not to tell her. It's too painful to tell her that. Maybe Allison could have a good life now. Maybe this is her chance at happiness. But she knows Allison, knows she would want to know, knows that her life is never going to be _normal_ or good - her life was always about saving her friends and because of that she paid the ultimate cost. Lydia scolds herself for even thinking it, adding on the tacky superhero element. Allison died because something killed her. There was nothing to be romanticised or desired about it.

 

"What if there is no way to fix it?" Cora says softly. Lydia knows there probably isn't. She can tell Allison and let her wonder for the rest of her life what her life is truly like or she can let her carry on being this Allison. It's a tough call, on one hand she deserves to know and on the other she deserves to be happy; maybe she could be happy with knowing but Lydia doesn't think that's a risk she wants to take. With a heavy sigh she makes her way back towards Cora, grabs the shopping basket out of her hands.

 

"Let's just finish shopping."

 

*

Lydia is twenty-seven when she spots her, _again_. 

 

But it's been months since she last saw her in the supermarket. Been on Lydia's mind ever since but she hasn't been around to see. Lydia had gone back to Beacon Hills to avoid their little run ins. And now she's here. In Beacon Hills, standing outside Lydia's house, gazing up at the windows and at the flowers, her hands twisted around the gate.

 

It's been ten months. Ten months of knowing what had happened and ten months of searching for an answer to fix it, only coming up with the same one: Let her die for good to find peace.

 

And it's been nine months of refusing to do just that. Allison deserves to live even if she's not the Allison she was born as or the one Lydia knew or the Allison her Allison would eventually grow to be.

 

Lydia is with Scott and Stiles when they find her standing outside of Lydia's childhood home, (and she lives there now, has moved back into the place she grew up).

 

"I wanted to find you." She says when she sees Lydia standing near her, flanked by two men that seem vaguely familiar from the last dream she had. She looks up at one of them, his eyes filled with pain as he looks at her; she'd seen herself in his arms, in the place Lydia's friend had died, a sword piercing through her.

 

"I think I'm having visions of your dead friend." Allison says, slightly teary-eyed as she faces the three people in front of her. Lydia's heart aches as she looks at her, she wants to reach out and grab her. Hold her close to her. But she doesn't. She _can't_. "I saw her die."

 

Allison watches as the man that held the girl that looked like her in her dream gulp, his own eyes watering with tears.

 

"I don't know what to do." She whispers, it comes out broken and confused and it cracks Lydia's resolve to just stand there. She engulfs Allison in her arms, stroking her hair, stroking her back.

 

"It's okay." She whispers to the crying girl in her arms. _It's not okay at all._

 

Stiles, for once, is speechless. Lydia's lips curve up at that thought.

 

"I - I'm remembering things from her life." Allison says as she pulls away from Lydia but keeps herself in a distances touch. Lydia won't let go of her, winding their hands together. Is it right to lie to Allison? To pretend to not know what she's seeing are actually _her_ memories from a life she used to live? Is it wrong to keep it from her, to let her worry about what's wrong with her when nothings wrong with her at all. Lydia can't bring herself to tell her the truth, to pile on any heavy burden on top of her.

 

"You're not." Scott speaks up. Lydia lets her eyes flutter closed gently, of course, Scott's not afraid to dish out the hard truths anymore. Lydia used to be able to be blunt, confident, Queen of Beacon Hills high - she's starting to wonder where that girl went, buried under the death and trauma she's experienced. _Grown up._

 

Allison flicks her eyes towards Scott. "What?" She asks, mouth agape, confused. Lydia knows this isn't the right moment to think about kissing her but she can't help but stare at her lips and wonder what it would be like to taste the lip gloss on her mouth; to bury her tongue inside - _Stop it,_ her mind hisses at her. Lydia takes a step back, letting Allison's hands slip from her own. Friends, if that, is all they could ever be.

 

"You're our friend." Scott tells her softly, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder. Allison flinches a little and he removes his hand from it's position in its air, putting it back by his side as he smiles softly at her. "It's called Amnesia Resurrection - "

 

"They couldn't come up with a better name!" Stiles calls out, interrupting Scott. He flashes Allison a grin, trying to ease the tension in the air. Allison shoots him back a polite smile but her focus is trained solely on Scott now. Lydia could disappear inside her house if she wanted and Allison wouldn't notice. But, she doesn't. It's not what she wants and it's not what Allison needs.

 

"You were resurrected from the dead, your memory wiped. Fake memories were put in the place of your real ones." He explains, opting to give her the short hand version. It's about all they knew anyway.

 

"Um, I-" Allison pauses, taking a deep, shallow breath and flicking her eyes over to Lydia. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she looks at her. "Is it true?" She asks.

 

"Yeah." Lydia nods as she tucks her lower lip into her mouth and blinks back tears.

 

"Tell us what you know. Let us help you." Scott says. Allison turns her gaze from Lydia to Scott, looking him directly in the eye as she nods her head.

 

*

Allison doesn't know a lot.

 

Her death, flashes of her friendship with Lydia, a few memories from her childhood, her parents, _Kate_. It's not enough to form a complete memory history on. It always appears in the form of dreams.

 

"We need to find Deaton." Scott speaks up after Allison's finished telling them what she knows, which is barely anything. Stiles nods his head in agreement and Lydia can't stop looking at Allison. She had remembered things about _her_. Not about Scott or Isaac or anyone else she was close to but about _her_. Maybe it's because she had seen Lydia before but _still_.

 

"Deaton, right." Lydia agrees, her voice distant and small, hardly there at all. Her gaze still locked on Allison who's staring back at her, a small confused smile on her face.

 

In the distance she can hear Scott and Stiles mumbling about Deaton, they know somewhere he might be. With quick goodbyes they dash off.

 

"I can't believe this is happening to me." Allison says quietly, looking around Lydia's bedroom. "I know this place." She says, her eyebrows furrowing as she takes it in.

 

"My bedroom?" Lydia quirks her eyebrows up. Allison blushes at the words, which, _odd!_ Has Allison thought about her like _that_ at all? Without their friendship had she maybe found the woman who's been rude and broken down in front of her before attractive?

 

"Were we-" Allison pauses, gathering her breath for a second. "Were we ever, like, involved? Romantically, I mean. Sexually. Whatever." Allison rambles, blushing as she talks. Lydia lets out a loud laugh, clutching her chest as she laughs. _God, she wishes!_ How many hours a day did she spend dreaming about Allison? Allison and _her_ \- romantically, sexually, _whatever_.

 

Lydia wonders if the words, _I wish_ , would be appropriate to say but here she's been given a clean slate, a chance to start over. _Be honest_. "No." Lydia says truthfully as she tucks her hair behind her ear and the look of disappointment that flashes across Allison's face doesn't go unnoticed by her. "I used to spend a lot of time wishing we were, though."

 

Allison looks up at that, with a small grin. "Really?" She asks, her voice sounds helpful. Lydia nods, it feels like she's been nodding a lot tonight. Her head going _shake shake shake_. "I mean, it's just, before I talked to you, I used to see you _a lot_. I thought you were really beautiful. I had - _have_ \- a small, teeny tiny crush on you." Allison admits with a laugh. "Which is weird now, since it turns out I'm not who I thought I was and you're my best friend."

 

Lydia grins at that, wide and dazzling and charmingly. Tosses her hair over her shoulder. "You _thought_ I was beautiful?" Extra emphasis on the _thought_.

 

"I _think_ you're beautiful." Allison retorts.

 

"I think you're beautiful, too." Lydia says. "And you're not not you. You're still who you are. You're very similar to the Allison I knew. _Different_ , sure, you don't remember the same things she went through. She - _you_ \- went through things that changed you, shaped you as a person. It made you who you are but you're still you."

 

"Thanks." Allison replies with a grin. "I'd ask what those things were but I think I want to remember by myself."

 

"I understand." Lydia replies.

 

*

Lydia dreams of Allison dying that night, feels the sword pierce Allison's skin; _she knew, she knew, she knew and she couldn't stop it._

 

In the end Allison died protecting her when she was only trying to protect Allison.

 

*

"Deaton said her memories will come in time." Cora tells her.

 

"Better not take too long." Malia speaks up, bluntly.

 

Lydia stays silent.

 

*

"I'm losing memories from the fake life!" Allison gasps a week after she'd first come to Beacon Hills, rushing down the stairs and down into the living room. Lydia looks up from the book she's reading to look at the girl who's eyes are wide with fear.

 

How do you respond to that?

 

"This is good, right?" Allison asks as she takes a step closer towards Lydia.

 

"I guess so." Lydia says cautiously. Lydia had just assumed she'd keep both sets of memories. It feels sort of wrong to take even more memories from her, even if they're fake.

 

*

It's silent in the middle of the night. Lydia's wide awake, her eyes wide, her body bursting with something familiar - a desire to leave. She shakes the covers off of her body and grabs her clothes, quickly changing. It's becoming less than ideal to be finding dead bodies in the middle of the night, she thinks as she dashes out of the house.

 

Her hands are steady on the wheel and a _long_ time ago they wouldn't of been. They'd be shaking and she'd be scared, asking where she's going and not knowing the answer. Lydia still doesn't know the answer but she's not scared. She's been a Banshee too long to be scared. It's only when she gets to the destination that she feels her blood run cold.

 

She parks her car outside of the gate and cautiously steps inside. If she closes her eyes she can see the Oni, the battle that she had tried so hard to stop -

 

But it's in the past. Allison's here, sort of, kind of - she's here. Lydia looks around, praying that physically she isn't actually _here_ ; she's here to find a dead body. It's the first time she's been scared in a while, her palms sweating as she walks around the area. She can feel the wind that was there that night. The coldness, the desperation to save her best friend. Lydia trips over a body, her palms falling out flat to catch herself before she falls to the ground. Her eyes widen in shock as she registers who the dead body is. Nobody she knew personally, a boy she used to go to school with, but it still makes her blood run cold. She remembers him vaguely from parties, semi-friends with Jackson.

 

Lydia climbs off of him, taking long steps backwards before her back hits a wall. Hard concrete slab against her back. Fumbling with her phone, she calls Stiles. Her breath is even when she starts talking, rambling on for him to meet her here. Just another dead body, she tries to tell herself, but it's never just another dead body in Beacon Hills; it's not a big city full of nameless faces. It's a small town full of familiar faces and supernatural occurrences.

 

"David McNabber?" Stiles whistles as he inspects the dead body. His badge hangs limply from his uniform, reminding Lydia that they're not playing teenage detectives because they've been forced to. It's more real than it's ever been before.

 

"Didn't we go to school with him?" He tosses out over his shoulder after he's finished calling an ambulance to come pick him up. Lydia nods her head, shoving her hands into the pocket of her dress.

 

"I should go, right?" Lydia asks. Stiles nods his head, his hand coming to rest on her back and lead her back to his car. There's a reason she called him. He'll get her out before the questions start.

 

"Drive home safe, Lyds." He says softly, cradling her face in his hands before pressing a warm kiss to her forehead. Her eyes flutter closed as she nods her head, gripping onto his forearm tightly.

 

"Thanks." She whispers. Stiles takes a step back, nods his head, watches as she drives off.

 

*

"You find dead bodies?" Allison asks, her nose scrunching up. It's her first time at a pack meeting and she's met with faces she's never been before.

 

Malia looks frustrated as she shoots a glare at Allison. "Yes! We've gone through that." She snaps. Lydia flinches at Malia's tone and then watches as Kira pats her shoulder, whispering that maybe it's best to be _nice_ to Allison. Lydia tunes Malia out after that, she'll say something about why and Lydia will be forced to have to tell her off because her anger will get the best of her. Instead she focuses her attention on the person that matters, the confused brunette sitting next to her. 

 

"Yep. Banshee."

 

"What forces of evil do you think are behind this?" Cora asks, waltzing into the room with a glass of juice in her hand. She'd gotten in last night after Derek's call. Her eyes catch sight of Allison, she grins in Lydia's direction as she flops down into the empty chair next to Scott.

 

"I don't know." Scott says, shrugging his shoulders. He looks tired, worn-out. Cora licks her lips, thinking for a moment. Her eyes flick over to her brother next to Scott, his large hand covering his forehead.

 

"Sooo, we're just gonna sit around and not think about what's after us?" Cora says after no-one else has spoken up about what it might be. Lydia glares her way but she brushes it off with a smirk.

 

"That's the plan." Derek mumbles.

 

"Cool." Cora replies, swallowing her juice down in a big gulp.

 

"Allison, been filled in on everything yet?" She asks, her direction turned to Allison.

 

"No. I'm wanting to remember it all myself." Allison explains, shaking her head. Lydia pats her arm, squeezes it softly in support. Her eyes flick over to Lydia's, smiling softly in a way that it feels like it's just for the two of them. Nothing had been further expanded on since they'd briefly explained that they kinda liked each other. It felt wrong to do anything when this wasn't the Allison she was in love with but slowly she thinks she's starting to love this Allison; her memories from her fake life hadn't even vanished, she'd just wanted to forget them.

 

Cora rolls her eyes as she takes another sip of her juice. "Tell me how _that_ goes." She mumbles.

 

*

Half-past ten and Allison is curled up on a chair in the living room, legs tucked underneath her frame. Her hand is moving against the piece of paper sprayed out against her lap, sketching lines of a face. Her own face is determined, tongue jutting out from her lips as she works hard on getting the lines right, _perfect_. Lydia watches her from the kitchen, entranced by her.

 

It's her face on the paper, she realises as she walks closer towards her, leaning down to see her drawing. Allison puts her hands over the page, covering up the artwork and looks up at Lydia. She's alarmed, Lydia realises as she takes in the wide-eyed expression, and embarrassed, she notes as she takes in the flushed cheeks.

 

"Is it me?" Lydia asks, she knows the answer but is searching for a confirmation. Allison doesn't say anything. She licks her lips before nodding, taking her hands away from the page to reveal a half finished drawing of Lydia's face.

 

"You're really beautiful." Allison says shyly as Lydia studies the drawing.

 

"Really beautiful?" Lydia says cheekily. Her tone is friendly, _flirty_. It's the most brave she's ever been around Allison, (and it doesn't matter that this isn't the Allison she was friends with as a teenager because she's not that Lydia anymore, either). She leans closer towards Allison, her eyes roaming around her face, locked on her lips.

 

Allison nods, shyly tucking her hair behind her ear. " _Really_ beautiful." Their lips are so close now. All Lydia would have to do is lean an inch closer and press them together, instead she stays where she is licking her lips as she gazes at Allison's face.

 

"So are you." She says honestly, her hand reaching out to tuck the other piece of hair behind Allison's ear. "You're really beautiful." She murmurs as she leans in closer, still, so close that her lips press against the skin of Allison's face, leaving a delicate kiss underneath her ear. Allison inhales a deep, sharp breath. The room is silent around them, deadly silent, they could hear a pin if it fell. Lydia pulls back a little, just enough so her lips aren't touching her skin. (and her skin tastes sweet, so sweet, it's painful to pull away from it).

 

Neither of them move. Lydia doesn't want to make the first move (hasn't she already?).

 

"I think I might be falling in love with you." Allison blurts out, her eyes staring straight into Lydia's. It shouldn't shock Lydia, she's heard Allison tell her she loves her a million times before. But this isn't the Allison she loved at sixteen, seventeen, eighteen - this is Allison resurrected with a case of amnesia at twenty-eight. This is an Allison she doesn't know that well but knows better than she knows herself, late night talks curled up in front of fires and laughing in the car like it's old times. It feels scary to hear her say it, (because her Allison growing up only ever said it as a _I love you,_ you're my best friend kind of way) but Lydia thinks she's falling in love with her, too. Falling so deep she's scared she won't be able to crawl out of the hole she's falling into and she's not sure she wants to be able to crawl out of it.

 

"Good." Lydia says. "Cos I think I might be falling in love with you, too."

 

Lydia cups Allison's face with one hand, curving it around her cheek and then she leans in, inhales the scent of her perfume for a split second before crashing her lips down onto Allison's. And hasn't she always loved her anyway?

 

*

Scott calls with news about David McNabber. "He was a witch." Scott says over the phone. Lydia hums,it explains she must of found his body due to supernatural elements, (seems to be the main reason she stumbles upon dead bodies) but she isn't expecting what Scott says next. "He was involved in Allison's resurrection." 

 

David McNabber, who they'd never even spoken to before, had raised her dead best friend from the dead. Years ago, right after she died, up until Lydia graduated Beacon Hills high school (which _thank god_ \- for weeks they'd been sure something would stop it from happening), she'd thought about resurrecting Allison. At one point it was all she could think about, everything else came second to her goal of resurrecting Allison. It consumed her and ruined her. Grades slipped, she was almost killed at one point and still she didn't have the power to bring her back. Still, always, forever was her best friend supposed to remain dead. And here comes some kid she went to school with who was able to do - or assist - what she had wanted to be able to do. And she'd found him dead.

 

"And?" Lydia asks. How does Scott know this? How was David involved?

 

"I went around to his house. I found, uh," Scott pauses and Lydia's preparing for the worst. "I found Danny there. He told me some things." _Danny?_ Lydia hadn't seen him since she left. He didn't want anything to do with the pack and they'd kind of just lost touch after they both got out of Beacon Hills. Last she'd heard he was living with Jackson. 

 

"He wasn't involved in the resurrection. David was his boyfriend. He found out about the resurrection only a few days ago." Lydia listens, tapping her fingernails against her table. Wonders why Danny never called her after finding out. He knew how she felt about Allison, even before she died. He'd been the first one she told how she felt about Allison, about how she was confused about her sexuality. He'd been the first one she'd told she was a lesbian. He was her best friend. Yet he hadn't tried to get in catch with Lydia to tell her this.

 

"David had confessed to helping bringing her back from the dead by doing it. But he'd been hired by someone else." Scott explains and Lydia just wishes he'd get to the point. Her gaze lands on Allison as she comes down the stairs, yawning as she walks. Lydia lets her eyes roam over her legs, the silky top she wore, the short pajama shorts that belong to Lydia.

 

"Who was he hired by?" Lydia asks, her focus turning back to what was most important right now. Finding out everything they can about what happened.

 

"Kate."

 

It's just another shock to add onto the long list of shocks.

 

*

"Who's Kate?" Allison asks at the next pack meeting. An emergency pack meeting held at Lydia's.

 

"Your crazy, psycho aunt." Stiles supplies, holding two thumbs up in her direction.

 

"She burnt down Derek's house with his family inside." Lydia tells her, gently. But Allison doesn't even know Kate, no hurt flashes across her face. She looks sad for a moment but shrugs it off.

 

"Why'd she want to resurrect me then?" Allison asks. Lydia's amazed at how easy Allison's been able to take all this news in. All of it. From her Amnesia Resurrection to Kate. Lydia only heard what had happened after it happened, everything she knows about their adventures is second-hand information from Allison. Lydia can still vividly recall Allison crying in her lap as she explained everything that had gone down with Kate, she can still recall stroking her hair softly, wiping away her tears. Her disbelief that Kate could of been so  _evil_. Kate who Allison loved so much, with her whole entire heart, who loved Allison just as much. Lydia remembers Kate, the one she knew, full of fun. Like a cool aunt to her as well, the few times she was with her. How do you say to someone 'your aunt was a psycho bitch but she loved you'. 

 

"She loved you a lot, Allison." Scott says. And why does it sting when he smiles at her like that? Why does it hurt a little when Allison smiles back? Allison was just kissing her on the way over and she doesn't even remember Scott but Scott remembers and he was there. Lydia pushes her worries to the back of her mind and focuses on the trouble at hand.

 

"We've gotta find her and stop her." Lydia says, standing up. Allison looks alarmed at this suggestion.

 

"She's not going to hurt me!" Allison cries out, tugging on Lydia's arm.

 

"You don't know Kate. _We_ don't even know what her plans are." Lydia bites back. It's the first time Allison stares at her like Lydia's a stranger, _which she sort of is._ Her hands fall from where they're gripped around Lydia's arm.

 

"You're right." Allison says quietly, her eyes downcast towards the floor before she looks up and glares around the room. " _I_ don't know anything. I don't have memories from a life you remember me from. Maybe," Allison gulps. "Maybe it's best that I go. I might not be who I think I am but she's all I really know."

 

It goes very silent. It feels like the silence is swallowing Allison, engulfing her in a big, black void of nothingness. As soon as the words are out of her mouth she wants to take them back. It hits her that she doesn't want to leave, she _likes_ these people around her. More than she's ever liked her other friends. They're funny and caring and exciting. The whole living in constant danger thing is a bit of a put off but she knows how to fight, while she always chalked that up to memories of being trained in Martial Arts, she thinks it's a skill left behind from her old life.

 

"We don't want you to be anyone else." Lydia whispers quietly, her eyes shining with tears when she finally brings herself to look at Allison. Maybe at first she wanted her Allison back but they're alike in some ways and Lydia loves her differences, too. This is the Allison her Allison would of eventually become anyway and she loves them both, she loves this Allison maybe more. The girl in front of her isn't just her best friend, she's so much more. The thought of losing her terrifies her, (and she doesn't think about her losing her as losing her _again_ ).

 

"I - " Allison starts, shaking her head she folds her arms over her body.

 

"You don't have to stay." Lydia says gently as she places her hand on her arm. Allison flinches, she wants Lydia to tell her to stay. "But I want you to stay." At that Allison looks up, her face hopeful as she stares at Lydia. " _We_ want you to stay."

 

A chorus of hums echo through the room and for the first time in forever Allison feels content. She feels loved and wanted and all the things you read and watch about and hope for. In this moment it feels like all the messy puzzle pieces are starting to fit. It doesn't matter who she is or what she was. Everyone around her still wants her, still loves her and that's all that matters. Forget crazy aunts and resurrections and memory losses.

 

"I want to stay." Allison admits. Lydia grins from ear to ear at that statement, her arms winding around Allison's neck as she crushes their bodies together. Holds Allison so close, so tightly, that Allison feels like she can't breathe; it makes her grin, _she can't breathe_ _in a good way_. In the best way.

 

"I love you." Lydia murmurs in her ear, so softly that Allison doesn't think she even said the words but Lydia's face is full of love and adoration when they pull apart from each other.

 

_I love you, too._ And that's all it takes for Allison to not care for the future, for the hard battle ahead that'll follow because that can come tomorrow. Or later today. For right now she needs to enjoy what she's realised before it slips away from her and is gone but as she looks around, she finds the thought of this leaving her hard to believe.

 

*


End file.
